Not Quite Charming: A Secret Billionaire Beach Romantic Comedy (Once Upon a Time on Lavender Beach Book 1)

by Becca Barnes

  “It’s pretty simple,” I said. “I quit.”

  “What?”

  “I hereby resign from MacCarthy Enterprises.” I braced my arms on the boat’s wheel for the inevitable backlash that was about to ensue. “Effective immediately.”

  “You can’t quit. We’re in the middle of a crisis.”

  “No, we were in the middle of a crisis. Now, we’re in the middle of the ocean.”

  “Are you insane? You came barging into my office this morning saying that you’d solved everything, but you needed to show me something first. Then you drag me out into the Gulf of Mexico to tell me that you quit?”

  “Well, that, and to see if you wanted to go deep-sea fishing.”

  “You are insane!”

  “Dad, I haven’t enjoyed working for this company in a long time.”

  “Is this about your salary? If you want more money, fine. You were off your game in this latest fiasco. We’ll overlook it and—”

  “It’s not about money, Dad.”

  “Is it about a girl?”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “Please, son. I’m sixty-seven years old. But I’m not blind. You’ve been acting like a damn fool all week.”

  “Yeah, well. It’s too late. That ship sailed.” I crouched on the back deck of the boat and dipped my fingers into the warm Gulf waters. “She hates me now. Won’t even talk to me. And I don’t blame her.”

  “Wow. Sounds like she has it as bad as you.” Dad rolled the cuffs of his pants and sat next to me. “Can I make you a deal?”

  “I’m not really in a negotiation mood right now, Dad.”

  “Here’s the thing. I probably won’t ever fully retire. Your mom and I would probably kill each other if we were home together twenty-four seven. But I want to pass this company on to you. Not some stranger. Not some random go-getter employee. I therefore don’t accept your resignation. But--”

  “No buts,” I muttered.

  Dad heaved a sigh.

  “But I will acknowledge that over the years, I may have grown too focused on profits and the bottom line. I might have lost sight of things that are more important. So I have a proposal for you.”

  “I’m listening.” I was genuinely curious at this point.

  “Stay,” said my father, “and you’ll be free to pursue whatever projects you want, however big...or small. You’ll have free rein.”

  “Completely free rein?”

  “Yes.”

  “Without your approval?”

  “You’ve always had my approval,” he said. When I scoffed, he added, “I know I haven’t always shown it, but you have. I’m proud of you. You’re damn good at what you do.”

  Dad started to give me an awkward side embrace, but I reached over and drew him into a real hug. He was trying. That was a first step.

  “So deal?” asked Dad.

  “All right,” I said. “Deal.”

  I stared out over the water toward the shore, the colorful buildings of Lavender Beach mere specks in the distance.

  “With one more caveat,” I said.

  Dad lifted an eyebrow, but he didn’t argue.

  Progress.

  Thirty-Six

  Ellie

  “You’re Satan in the flesh. You do realize that, don’t you?”

  And by the smell of him, it was definitely some kind of flesh, probably rotting, that Beauregard had rolled in.

  Mrs. Fitzgerald, the tyrant terrier’s snooty owner, had called an hour ago, pleading with me to take her and Beau back. I hadn’t seen anyone beg that desperately since…

  Well, since a week ago when Mac had begged me to hear him out when I ran away from his boat.

  I pushed away thoughts of Mac and focused on the little mongrel who was growling at me as I plopped him into the sink for an initial soak.

  I’d doubled my normal charge, and Mrs. Fitzgerald had paid it without blinking. Now that I would be keeping half of S’Paw Box’s profits, the little beast was growing on me. And the dog didn’t seem too bad either.

  “You need anything over at the store?” asked Kat, stretching her arms. She’d already finished her fourth doggy massage of the day, and we had two more bookings lined up later in the afternoon.

  Word spread fast in a small town.

  It also spread fast when you announced it to half a million followers on Instagram.

  “Nah, I’m good,” I said. “I’m just going to finish up with Beau and then grab a quick lunch.”

  “K. See you later,” she said, and the bell above the door chimed as she left.

  Twenty seconds later, the bell rang again.

  “Forget something?” I called over my shoulder.

  “Well, I forgot how sexy you are when you’re up to your elbows in suds, but that’s thankfully remedied.”

  I turned slowly to face Mac. He wore cargo shorts and an old tee shirt, the same outfit he had been wearing the first time I met him, in fact. He pulled his sunglasses off and hung them on the neck of his shirt. Lulu danced happy circles around his feet.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Because if you’re still trying to buy S’Paw Box, you should know that it’s not for—”

  “No,” he said. “I’m not trying to buy anything. Or sell anything.”

  “Well, if you’re here to apologize again—”

  “Nope. Not here to do that either. I am sorry, but I’ve already let you know that. I hope you choose to forgive me, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  I nodded. He walked over until he was a foot away from me, his physical presence pressing down on the air around me.

  “Okay.” I licked my upper lip. “You’ve stumped me. Why are you here?”

  “I thought it might be a good idea to come around and meet some of my neighbors.”

  “Neighbors?”

  “Mmm hmm.” He rested one hand against the ridge of the basin and leaned in until I could smell the tang of saltwater on his skin. “I bought a house two blocks over.”

  I knew the one he was talking about. The “sold” sign had gone up three days ago without me giving it a second thought. House was a bit of an understatement. He’d bought a hurricane-proof fortress.

  “You bought a house in Lavender Beach?”

  “I found a home in Lavender Beach.”

  “Oh.” Something bloomed within my chest, warm and hopeful. “So...you live here now?”

  “Yup. Our new headquarters just relocated here.”

  “And what precisely is it that you plan to do here?”

  Please say every square inch of me.

  Bad Ellie. Naughty Ellie. I was supposed to be angry at him. Although my brain was having a difficult time at the moment remembering why that was exactly.

  The fact was, I had already forgiven Mac. He’d made a bad choice, and I knew that he regretted it. I wasn’t going to let unforgiveness poison me ever again.

  “I’m switching focus,” he said. “I plan to partner with small businesses.”

  “Like, say...pet stores?” I took his free hand and moved it to the edge of the sink so his arms encircled me.

  “That was one idea, yes.” Mac’s eyelids drifted half shut, and he stared down at my lips like he was working through a slow plan of attack. He stood so close now that with one sharp tug, I could have his body pressed against mine. “Maybe a collaboration? A partnership?”

  “I’ve already got a partner.”

  “So I heard.” His hands slid over my hips, and he lifted me to the edge of the sink. “But I still think the subscription box is a great idea. I could help you get it off the ground. Pet owners would be lucky to have your taste and expertise. And you could introduce them to some of your favorite local vendors. Win-win. But I respect that you call the shots.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I looped my thumbs through his belt loops, drawing him closer, and hooked my ankles behind his back. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Oh, you haven’t even begun to experience ‘ha
rd’ yet,” he murmured against my cheek.

  “I’m taking my lunch break in an hour.” I grazed my teeth over his earlobe. “Are you going to be around?”

  “Forever.” He planted a gentle kiss on my nose, full of promise and possibility. “I’m going to be around forever.”

  And for the second time in as many weeks, when Mrs. Fitzgerald came to pick up her dog, we left her thoroughly scandalized.

  Epilogue

  And They Lived Happily Ever After

  Ellie

  “I ate too many tacos.” Mac groaned and laid back on the sand.

  “Hmm.” I plopped down next to him and tossed the remaining leftovers to Bentley and Lulu. “I feel a bit stuffed myself.”

  “Feels like I’ve been punched by a nun.” He puffed out his cheeks.

  “Definitely a decent-sized food baby in there.” I rubbed my hand over his stomach then took his hand and placed it on my own belly.

  “Just a little bigger than the real baby in here,” I said.

  He froze, and for a moment, I thought he might have gone into shock.

  “Are you--you’re serious?” He sat up and pulled me close. “You’re really serious? You’re pregnant?”

  We’d been trying for almost a year with no luck. Not that I was complaining about the practice sessions.

  I’d actually scheduled an appointment with a specialist a few weeks ago. And then the stick turned blue.

  Moisture from Mac’s eyes blotted against my cheek.

  “How...how long?” he asked, pulling away so he could look at me. He stared down in awe at my lower abdomen and placed his palm gently against it, then bent his head to kiss the place where a bump would soon be growing.

  God, he was going to be the best daddy ever.

  “About nine months, give or take.” I laughed.

  He shook his head in exasperation, but he was laughing too. And wiping tears away.

  “How far along?”

  “Ahh. Not long. Maybe eight weeks? I would have realized earlier that I was late if I hadn’t been so busy helping Kat plan her wedding.” I just hoped that I wouldn’t be a puking matron of honor on her big day.

  With my shirt pulled up and my stomach exposed, Lulu and Bentley took it as an open invitation to start practicing their doggy kisses. They licked the spot until it tickled and I was writhing in giggle fits.

  “I didn’t think I could love you more,” said Mac, “but—”

  He got choked up and couldn’t finish. Definitely a first.

  “Hey.” I held the sides of his face and drew him in for a tender kiss. “There will always be room for more love in this family.”

  He gathered me, Lulu, and Bentley into a massive hug, and we all collapsed back into the sand in a dog pile.

  “Always,” he said.

  The End

  Afterword

  Dear Reader,

  The moment I had an idea for a series of modern day, beach-set fairy-tale retellings, I knew I had to start with Cinderella and her prince. They may have had a bit of ups and downs along the way, but it was so much fun sharing how they got to their happily ever after.

  I hope Ellie and Mac brought a little laughter and joy into your life as you read their story. ❤️

  If you want to receive updates, you can follow me on Amazon or subscribe to my newsletter.

  Turn the page for a bonus sneak peek at the first chapter of the first book in my High Stakes Hearts series, Into Focus.

  Just as a reminder, ALL of my books can be read as standalone, but there are some fun little Easter eggs in there for people who already know the characters.

  I love to hear from readers! You can email me at beccabarnesbooks@gmail.com

  You can also subscribe to my newsletter or follow me on Amazon if you’d like to stay up-to-date on new releases.

  XOXO,

  Becca

  Into Focus: A Second Chance Amnesia Romance

  Annie Cargill has it all—a flourishing photography career, a kick-ass best friend, and a new husband so hot he puts solar flares to shame.

  There’s only one snag. After a car accident sends Annie into a coma, she wakes up with a case of post-traumatic amnesia. And that hot new husband, Evan Gaines, is a complete stranger to her.

  As Annie pieces together the puzzle of her and Evan’s life together, she can’t help but fall hard for the man who’s already chosen her. And now she wants her husband back—all of him. Mind, soul . . . and body.

  But something still stands between them. When she realizes Evan’s keeping secrets from her, she determines to dig up the truth. Even if the truth could tear them apart forever.

  Sexy and steamy, heartfelt and hilarious, Into Focus is a quick, fun weeknight romance that reminds readers that there are some things our mind can’t protect us from. And there are some things the heart can never forget.

  Chapter 1

  It’s nothing like the movies, waking up from a coma.

  First off, there was no cloud of concerned relatives hovering around my hospital bed, only my best friend Jen. And she looked less concerned than put-out.

  “Oh, go screw yourself, Martha Stewart,” she muttered. “And the handwoven corn husk broom you rode in on.”

  She flicked the corner of the DIY magazine harder than she needed to, and the page tore.

  “What did Martha ever do to you?” I said. But it came out in a scratchy, mangled croak as if I’d been gargling razor blades. I clutched at my throat and looked around for a glass of water.

  “Oh, please. We both know she’s a government robot operative designed to make regular women feel like they’re dung beetles,” said Jen without thinking, like we were chatting over our weekly Saturday morning coffee date.

  Then she froze. Jen swiveled to face me, her eyes alight with excitement and joy and . . . something else. Worry?

  “You’re awake,” she said.

  “Apparently so.”

  “Annie. You’re awake,” she said again and then lunged at me. I braced myself for the ensuing hug, but she didn’t touch me. Instead, she reached around me and pressed a button on my bed. Once. Twice. And then frantically, over and over.

  “Sorry,” she said. “It’s the nurse call button. I’m not sure sure what I’m supposed to do.”

  That was when the real fun began. Nurses and doctors crowded into the room, each with a different pointy object with which to prod me. Jen scooted over to the corner. She whipped out her phone, and I could see her texting like a mad fiend.

  Four different people in scrubs barked questions at me all at once.

  “Do you know your name?”

  “What date is it?”

  “Do you know where you are?”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  I opened my mouth to answer.

  Annie Cargill.

  No clue.

  I’m not sure, but call me crazy, I’m going to guess . . . a hospital.

  And the answer to that last question was complicated.

  Of course, none of this came out. Instead, a hoarse cough escaped.

  “Water,” I whispered and shifted around to try to reach a cup, but there were so many tubes and wires attached to me, it felt like I was trapped in a spider’s sticky web.

  Thankfully, one of the nurses put a straw to my mouth and said, “drink.”

  The cold liquid seared the sides of my throat as it went down, but after another small sip, the burning subsided, and I tried out my voice.

  “My name’s Annie,” I said.

  That one small answer was enough to restart the interrogation. My head started to pound with all the questions, and I was about to ask them to stop when a tiny but fierce-looking woman wearing a white lab coat entered the room. She would have barely reached five feet tall with heels on, but when she spoke, her tone held the calm but rock-solid inflection of someone who was accustomed to being the sole authoritative voice in a group.

  “All right,” she said. “Everybody out exce
pt for you and you.” She gestured to the nurse who had helped me get a drink of water and to Jen.

  “And you can stay, too,” she added with a smile, pointing directly at me. “Hi. I’m Elise Anand, your neurologist. I know you must be a little scared and confused right now. You’re in the hospital. You’ve been in a medically induced coma following a car accident.”

  I nodded slowly, willing memories of said car accident to rise to the surface, but it was no use. She might as well have told me I’d been attacked by a killer squid. And it wasn’t a bad comparison. Because right now, it felt like I was swimming through a hazy cloud of ink trying to drag up recollections of anything recent. Glimmers of light and movement, flashes of what might have been memories, popped up unbidden then receded back into the dark.

  “Don’t try to remember details or force it,” said Dr. Anand, as if she could read my mind. “You had some significant head trauma, and then we were worried that you might be at risk for a stroke.”

  I tried to push myself up in the bed, but my chest and abdomen throbbed in blunt pain. The nurse reached around me and used a remote to prop the head of the bed up.

  “Two cracked ribs and a bruised pelvis,” said Dr. Anand, patting my toes. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

  I nodded again.

  “The other car?” I asked, looking at Jen.

  “There was no other car,” she said. “You slid on a patch of black ice and hit the median.”

  “Ice?” Ignoring the pain, I pushed myself further up on my pillows so I could look out the window. The trees stood bare, leafless skeletons guarding against a steel gray sky that marked a typical Atlanta winter day. It was all wrong. I couldn’t pinpoint what date I thought it was, but those trees should have been green, thick with leaves.

  “How long was I out?” I asked.